


Activated

by the_authors_exploits



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Text Messages, not much to tag tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_authors_exploits/pseuds/the_authors_exploits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim keeps getting text messages, but doesn't respond to a single one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Activated

**Author's Note:**

> You'll notice some things that are consistent with my Jason!fics: Tim, their first meeting, Tim helping Jay, Jason napping.  
> Also, just a warning, this is me trying to get back into writing so it's kinda...blahh

Tim glances at the phone in his hand and reads the text message carefully, deciphering it and committing it to memory.

_[from: Connor] hey, u missed a test 2day_

Tim reads it and rereads it until another comes in a few moments later.

_[from: Connor] just read chapt13 n learn the vocab_

He reads that one over and over too.

\---

He’s not sure what this conversation is about, but it seems very important to the girl.

_[from: Lori] don’t 4get to pick me up_

_[from: Lori] we are still on for homecoming right?_

There’s a moment where he contemplates responding; but that would be cruel, so he tucks the phone in his pocket and asks M’gann what she’s cooking today.

\---

“Robin, your phone is buzzing!” Kon holds up the piece of tech the next day and Tim makes his way across the room to grab it. He glances at the ID; it’s from Lori.

_[from: Lori] last night was nice; wldv been nicer if u had been there_

He doesn’t respond.

\---

_[from: Connor] hey buddy me n some others r headed to the arcade wanna come?_

Tim never liked the arcade; too many people. He still commits the message to memory, just like all the others.

\---

_[from: Unknown] wanted to give this a try; see what it’s all about_

Tim feels only slightly better at that.

\---

The bill comes in and Tim signs off on it, tucking it away in a folder so Bruce or Alfred won’t ever find it; he thinks it would hurt them if they knew what he’s been doing. He checks the phone once more before heading to the gym to practice; practice makes sure mistakes can be easier avoided.

\---

_[from: Kyle] havent spoke in a while; hope you’re doing ok_

Tim sighs; the messages have been coming in less frequently. He should’ve expected it; it’s what happens when communication drops like this, due to unforeseeable reasons. He wonders if they’ve forgotten too.

\---

“Why do you have two phones, Robin?”

Tim glances up and his eyes widen behind his sunglasses; he topples to his feet and stumbles forward, snatching both away from Artemis. “It’s more reliable.”

It’s an easy lie.

\---

The bill comes in, like always; Tim stares at it for a while. It’s not like he needs to pay to keep the phone active anymore. No one messages anymore. He picks up the sleeker model, a T-Wayne 7, to call and cancel when the older one buzzes.

His actions are hesitant when he unlocks the screen and checks the messages.

_[from: Kyle, Connor, Ken, and four others] Happy birthday! We miss you!_

_[from: Connor] forgot we dont see each other, but I still got you something_

The pen scratches when Tim signs the bill, and the ink smudges with wetness.

\---

There have been other messages, staggered for months, but now…now, there is just silence. It pittered out, eventually came to a halt like when Damian doesn’t think anyone is watching and rolls down the hill in the backyard—fast and fast until the bottom when he comes to a slow stop.

Tim checks the phone every day, rehearses every message that has been received, and even though it keeps draining his account he refuses to shut it down—hoping a new message will come through. It never does; he wonders if the memories have stopped like the messages.

Eventually, he will have to shut down the phone; he just hopes he will be able to when that day comes.

He remembers the day he reactivated it, shortly after meeting with Connor and Kyle after school one day; they’d expressed their feelings, said the missed talking to him, so Tim had reopened the phone. They no longer received those cold “this number has been deactivated” messages anymore, just the crippling silence of a ghost.

\---

There’s a man looming over him—no, not a man. A lost boy, just a little older than himself, and he swallows blood while the boy spits and yells. Tim does nothing more than lift his arms to defend himself when the boy above let’s out a scream and throws a punch.

_“FIGHT ME!”_

But he won’t; he doesn’t want to. He’s tired and he can see that the other boy is too, if the tears streaming down from those teal eyes are anything to go by. “I won’t…” he whispers.

There’s a choked growl and the boy whirls away tearing at his hair; Tim eases into a sitting position and watches him. He opens his mouth to call out, but there’s a buzzing from somewhere between them that pulls him up short. For a moment, they both stiffen, glance at each other uncertainly, before comically staring down at the bright lit T-Wayne 5 phone on the ground.

Tim recognizes it, eyes widening, and he wonders when during the scuffle did that fall out of his pocket; the other recognizes it too. When he reaches down to pluck it from the floor, his hands are shaking. He unlocks the phone, fingers tracing the same pattern Tim has for years now. When the message comes up, his breath catches in his throat, like a gag, and he covers his mouth with a bloodied leather gloved hand.

When he can speak, he reads quietly, as if it’s only meant for his ears: “ _[from: Kyle]…i…miss you…_ ”

Tim stumbles to stand and watches the other closely, an arm cradling bruised ribs. “Jason,” he speaks.

Jason flinches and when he looks at Tim it’s with wide, horrified eyes, as if he’s only now realizing everything he’s done. Tim goes a step further, angling his body to seem nonthreatening and accepting, offering a hand.

“Jason, come home; come back to them.”

“All of them?” His voice breaks.

“All of them,” Tim pushes again. “Even Bruce, even Alfred; all your friends. Everyone.”

\---

Two phones sit on the coffee table, but only one buzzes at this time; Tim picks it up and checks it, shooting Damian and his giant dog a look. Damian scowls and tosses the dog toy at the couch; Tim bats it away with one hand, the other unlocking the phone, returning Damian’s scowl.

“If you wake him, I’m not stopping him from killing you.”

Damian rubs behind Titus’ ears, eyeing the body napping besides Tim on the couch. Tim ignores his youngest brother and instead reads the message.

_[from: Ken] we’re off to the arcade; wanna come?_

Tim sets up to type and sinks back into the couch to respond. _[to: Ken] sorry, hes asleep rn, this is tim_

_[from: Ken] ah k; thanks anyway. For everything._

There’s the sound of a key slipping into the front door—Dick’s home—and Titus starts barking, growing from a gruff _rruff_ and into a loud _rrraarrarraaa_ when he scrambles for the hallway; Jason jerks and immediately glares at Damian’s retreating form. Tim’s trying to swallow a grin, and he must be successful because Jason’s glare lessens when he glances at Tim; Jason settles again, scowl still in place, and mutters “I’m gon’ kill ‘im.”

Tim smiles, staring down at the phone in his hands, and replies “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didnt find a spot in the fic to explain this so: Bruce canceled Jason's phone shortly after his death, Tim started it again but sent the bills to himself because he realized how much it meant to Jason's friends to have that link with their lost friend. I've always found those instances about texting a dead friend really sad and wanted to try it out; might play around with it for other pairings too, I know I did something like it with Parksborn a while ago, but it was with mix cds and Harry wasnt dead, and wow I think this might be my second longest author's note! Okay, I'm done ranting now...


End file.
